


love's the finest thing around

by confettimisha



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Afghanistan, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Money, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6765499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confettimisha/pseuds/confettimisha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers - a Brooklyn boy, born and bred, returns home from Afghanistan with the weight of his best friend's death on his shoulders. Now, a barista in an indie coffee shop in Downtown, Manhattan, he scrapes by a living with no one but his best mates to guide him and his James Taylor CD always at the ready. Surely at rock bottom, with PTSD and depression lingering over his head, Steve wants to find love but doesn't know where to start. </p><p>James Buchanan Barnes - a Brooklyn boy, born and bred, returns home from Afghanistan with the world waiting for his ideas. He was born into luxury, but casting his father's money aside, he decides to make his own living, starting from the bottom. Two years later, he's the head of a major corporation with an apartment overlooking the city and he knows he's made it - despite his failed engagement with an ex-fiance whom he has split the custody of their daughter for. The only thing missing is that love that he's so desperate to find </p><p>Or:<br/>Where a traumatized, impoverished Steve Rogers finds refuge in a man with over a hundred pairs of the same shoes and his daughter with the bright red hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sweet baby james

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! thanks so much for reading, it means a lot to me! i promise that this one will be much happier than my previous fic - i don't want to put you or myself through that ordeal again. however, there will be some tough, pretty hard-hitting issues in this one as well, but i swear it has a happy ending. 
> 
> the title to the fic, the title to the chapters and every song lyric at the top of each chapter is from a different james taylor song. can you tell that i'm a fan?
> 
> hope you enjoy, and thanks so much for reading!

_Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose,_ _  
Won't you let me go down in my dreams?_

 

**Chapter 1 - Steve Rogers**

 

"Who's next?" Steve yelled over the din of bustling businessmen and women as they hurried about, choosing their orders and gossiping about a long days work. A woman apologized, barking her order at him over the counter. Nodding, he began to prepare her mocha. It was already 8.00 yet the rush in The Coffee House hadn't dwindled at all over the last two hours. The woman thanked him as he handed her the coffee. He smiled. She left. 

"Who's next?" 

And so the chain continued for the next half hour or so, at least a hundred people ordering their different orders, waiting for Steve to make them, receiving their coffee and perhaps - if they were half decent - putting a couple of quarters in the tip bowl. 

Then again, this was Manhattan. Not everyone was even half decent in Manhattan. 

Steve had grown up in Brooklyn, born to Irish immigrants who couldn't afford a decent home, and so they'd moved into Brownsville - not exactly an ideal place but it would do nicely. His father had died when he was five - he couldn't remember why, maybe because his mother had never told him. He'd been so young at the time, no five-year-old wants to hear about how their father had died. Steve had been a frail kid, pretty feeble and not very strong. He'd been ill a lot of the time - he stayed strong though, he knew that he couldn't leave his mother all alone. His childhood had flown by - that's what his mother had always warned him would happen - and at the age of sixteen, his mother who had spent all her time looking after her sickly child began to become sick herself. 

Pneumonia, the doctor said as she was rushed into hospital. 

"It's alright, Stevie, I'll see you just as soon as the Doctor's finished talking to me," she managed to muster through coughs and splutters.

Steve hadn't seen his mother after that. Not alive, anyway. 

Steve began to work out - he knew that he would die soon after his mother had if he didn't begin to look after himself. His mother had always called him a late bloomer, saying that his time would come and before he knew it he would have to duck to get into rooms - "That's what happened to my father," she had said, staring at a picture of her and her parents back in Ireland. Steve was hardly recognizable to anyone that had known him before, which was exactly what Steve had wanted. A fresh start. 

At 24, his mother's money began to run out. Steve worked a few jobs here and there, but he hadn't had enough money to go to college despite being one of the brightest kids in his class. Who was going to hire a giant blond kid with no qualifications? So he joined the army. His father had been in the army - fought in the Vietnam War. Steve had always loved his stories back when he was a kid. His father always told them with this look in his eye. Steve had thought it was wonderment, but now he was sure it was probably just the glint of tears. 

Shipped off to Afghanistan in 2010 with his oldest friend Sam Wilson, he served two tours before he was admitted leave. Arriving back at JFK, Steve barely had enough money to buy an apartment in Brownsville, just around the block from where he used to live. He knew jobs were higher paying in the city and so he searched, before seeing an add for a barista in The Coffee House. No experience required - those three words were music to Steve's ears. He was accepted - probably because the boss Phil was ex-military (and Steve suspected he had a tiny crush on him). 

And so, there he was. Mopping up the counter as the after-work rush began to cease, the door opened with a ding and he peered over. 

"You're looking tired, Rogers. Rough day?" Stark's familiar voice teased as he walked in, followed by his usual troops of friends. Steve knew Tony through their mutual friend Bruce, who Steve had gone to school with, and now worked at STARK INDUSTRIES - which, unsurprisingly, was founded by Tony Stark. Bruce was a researcher there, and as he followed Tony and his girlfriend Pepper into the shop he greeted Steve with a little wave and a smile. 

"It just got worse, Stark," Steve quipped back, signalling for Wanda - who also worked at the Coffee House - to fill in on his shift while he sat with his friends. "Why do you insist on coming in here every damn day?" 

"Watch your language," Tony retorted, sliding into their usual booth by the window. Pepper joined him, followed by Bruce. Steve slipped into the booth opposite Tony and beside Jane - another researcher at STARK INDUSTRIES - and Thor, who also worked with Steve, joined them. 

Steve looked around at his friends, laughing along at their jokes though he often didn't understand them - they were all sort of in-jokes that he supposed you only understood if you worked with the rest of them. Bruce's hair was beginning to gray, Steve noticed. Probably because of all the stress that he was under. Bruce had always suffered from anger management issues, everyone around him knew that and always trod on eggshells when they were with him, which just pissed him off even more. However, when simply hanging out with his friends, he seemed extremely relaxed. Pepper, who sat beside Bruce, had strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a neat bun atop her head. Pepper was organised, responsible and the real boss of STARK INDUSTRIES (no matter what Tony Stark may tell you). She sat with her hand looped through Tony's, Tony who had a big, immature grin on his face due to the hand contact, sneering at the others across the table that he had a girlfriend who has really hot and super awesome. 

Well, that's how it seemed to Steve. 

Tony was a good guy. He and Steve often came to blows - they probably wouldn't have been friends if Bruce hadn't forced them to hang out together as often as he had. Despite that, Steve respected him. He was rich, but he was generous, funding projects and charities without blinking at the decision to do so. 

"Hello, giant freak? You listening?" Tony asked, kicking at Steve's shin under the table which earned him a growl from Steve. "Easy tiger." 

"What did you say, sorry?" He mumbled, glaring at Tony. 

"I said, you should have seen the look on Bruce's face today when we-" 

Steve shut out again, ignoring the story which he was certain was the same as it was everyday. Tony hides in a room into which an unsuspecting Bruce dawdles with a cup of tea and an important file in his hands. Tony jumps out at unsuspecting Bruce. Bruce throws tea all over Tony, the file and himself. He growls and grumbles all the way to the bathroom, people leaping out of his path as they see him storming past, whilst Tony cackles with laughter. Covered in tea. 

"That's hilarious," Steve said when he assumed the story had finished. Another couple of customers began to slip into the store and Wanda makes a desperate call for help from behind the counter. "Thor, we should probably go help her out. Thor. Thor?" 

Thor was too busy flirting with Jane to notice Steve. The two of them had been flirting since the moment they met. Steve had attempted to persuade Thor to go for it over and over again, but despite the arrogance which Thor seemed to have, he was actually extremely introverted and shy. Especially when it came to girls. 

Steve rolled his eyes, leaping out of the booth and behind the counter where he took a businessman's order. Tall, black coffee, no sugar. Exactly how Steve liked it, plain and bitter. 

A bit like his life, he supposed. 

He finished preparing the coffee, handing it over to the guy and taking the change. Peering back at the clock, he realized the time. It was just about to chime 9.30, when the shop was supposed to close. Steve sighed, running a hand over his sweaty forehead and through his hair. "Alright, you lot. Clear out, I need to shut up shop now," he shouted over to his friends, watching as they all sighed in disappointment.

Steve seemed to be the only one that enforced rules around here. And Pepper. Maybe. 

They began to trickle out, shouting their goodbyes as they disappeared into the night sky. In the late September air, the night was getting darker and colder by the day, the moon shining down through the window as the last of his friends exited the shop. Thor and Wanda helped him clear the tables, wash the dishes and start to count up the money. When all the chores had been done, the three of them hung up their aprons and said goodnight, Thor and Wanda leaving first and leaving Steve to turn off the lights and lock up. 

He wondered how many more days he would be doing this job, if he would be doing it for ever, the same dull routine every day. Opening the shop, serving the early rush of customers, waiting most of the day as customers trickled in and out before there was another peak at lunch time and then again after most of the banks around them had closed. The Coffee House was right in the middle of the financial district and it was renowned for it's great coffee, so the majority of the people that worked there visited their shop for their coffee. 

Not that Steve minded. The more customers that came, the more money he would earn. 

Grabbing his coat from the hook he always hung it from, Steve hit the switch, plunging himself into darkness as he opened the door, the autumn breeze hitting him in the face as he turned the key in the lock. Pushing on the door to make sure it was properly locked, he turned swiftly on his heel and headed to the nearest subway station - Wall Street. Steve had a drivers licence, but driving through Downtown Manhattan out to Brooklyn every evening sounded like a nightmare. 

Not like it had anything to do with what happened in Afghanistan. 

Even at nearly 10, the streets were still bustling as people made their way home from work. The subway station was packed, people piling into the train as it arrived. Steve grabbed a seat - his carriage was almost empty, taking the subway every day meant that Steve knew the perfect place to stand in order to get a seat. He had to go pretty far, all the way out to Brooklyn, across the bridge and through Brooklyn Heights - where most of the businessmen and women got off. 

Steve suddenly heard through the din of the train hurtling along the tracks, a tiny voice that sung out through the noise. He scanned the almost empty carriage, searching for the voice. 

He wondered why a little girl would be on the subway so late. Hopefully she wasn't alone. 

His eyes finally landed on a girl with bright red hair in plaits down her back, swinging back and forth on her seat as she hummed her little song. Steve couldn't help but smile as she bumped up and down to the tune, grabbing the man beside her's hand and shaking it, begging him to join in. 

"C'mon, Daddy. I know you know it, you sing it to me every night!" she squealed, before the man hushed her, smiling apologetically at the people around him. He started to hum along too, his voice low and croaky but still in tune. 

"That's enough now, sweetheart, we can sing the rest when we get to Aunty Becca's house, okay?" the man whispered to her, though loud enough for Steve to hear. "Maybe, if you're lucky, we'll even have hot chocolate when we arrive. Don't tell Mommy, though. She'll be super mad if she finds out we had hot chocolate without her!"

The girl giggled, the noise delightful in Steve's ears. He'd always loved kids. When he was looking for money he babysat a couple of times. The kids always made him forget about his financial struggles, even if it was just for one night. 

"Alright fine, but I get the Darth Vader mug," the girl laughed, before doing her best Darth Vader impression and laughing at her own joke. Steve couldn't help but chuckle as well and the man looked over at him when he heard the noise. He smiled and Steve almost had the wind knocked out of him. 

He knew that guy.

He knew him, but he couldn't place where. 

Not only that, but the guy had the most incredible eyes that Steve had ever seen - even from a distance he could see the vibrancy of the blue, like two drops in the ocean. 

The train slowly shuddered to the stop, but the man and Steve were still looking at each other. In the distance, Steve could hear the announcement saying they had arrived in Brooklyn Heights. "C'mon, Daddy. It's our stop!" 

The girl tugged at the man's hand, drawing his eyes off Steve and following her off the train just before the doors closed. He turned back at the last minute, smiling at him before following his daughter up the stairs.

Steve was so transfixed for the whole journey home that he almost missed his stop. Sprinting off the train, he breathed out and began to walk up the stairs to the exit. Graffiti lined the walls, which Steve brushed his fingers along as he made his way out of the station. Brownsville was a pretty dodgy area, there were gangs and a lot of crime - but it was cheap. Steve quickened his step when he heard voices shouting from around the block. He was a big guy, most often people left him alone, but he didn't want to risk it. 

Reaching his apartment block, he keyed in the code and began to fly up the stairs, three steps at a time until he arrived at his apartment. He examined it as he walked through the door: it wasn't much, with a small living space/kitchen, a bathroom on one side and a bedroom on the other. The floors were dirty, fake wood and the walls were that horrible white material that you found in motels with a bumpy and scratchy surface. Once again, Steve didn't mind because it was cheap. Plus it was vaguely similar to everywhere he had previously lived. 

He wasn't hungry, so he poured himself a quick glass of water and popped an aspirin into his mouth - the busy day had led to a headache developing at the front of his head. Brushing his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror and stopped the motion of his hand. His eyes looked tired and lonely, dark bags drooping below them showing his hard day at work. His hair was tired, flopping into his eyes as he threw water over his face. Maybe with a good night's sleep he'd be able to get rid of the bags under his eyes, rejuvenate his face a little bit. Then again, having to get up at 6 every morning, not getting home until 10.30 made that pretty difficult to do. 

He removed his t-shirt, throwing it into the washing basket in the corner of the room and made his way through his silent apartment to his bedroom. The room was mostly empty: there was a plain bed with dark blue covering, a couple of framed pictures of Steve with his family, Steve with his friends, Steve with his squadron. 

And that's when it hit him; the guy from the train. 

Running over to the picture, he tore the frame from the wall and scanned it, his eyes suddenly falling on the man. Boy, did he look different now. Back then, Bucky Barnes had long, dark hair that constantly covered his face. A cigarette precariously hung from his lips most of the time, and he walked around wearing just his camo vest, pants and boots. Steve remembered how he'd crushed on Bucky a little the first day that they'd met. 

_"Rogers, it's gonna be alright. You won't die on your first day on the field, it just doesn't happen."_

_"What about you, though? What day is this for you?"_

_"Two hundred and twenty third day," Barnes had responded, puffing out a huge cloud of smoke. "Trust me, nobody dies on the first day of combat. No one."_

He'd only known Barnes for about twenty minutes when they'd had that conversation. He'd never met anyone as kind - in a non-obvious way. The next day, Steve had only seen Barnes once on the battlefield.

Straight before a bomb blew up in their faces. 

 

 

 


	2. country road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lightsaber fights and ice hockey games and free coffee from an attractive guy at a coffee shop - what more could Bucky Barnes want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! thanks for coming back! this is a really long chapter for me, i hope you enjoy it! the lightsaber scene is of course from the empire strikes back, probably the best movie ever made. however if you're not a star wars fan, you may not have understood it all. in which case i'm sorry, but also not sorry because star wars is the best and you should be a star wars fan. 
> 
> thanks again for reading!

_Won't you lend me your name?  
_ _Your way and my way seem to be one and the same._

 

**Chapter 2 - Bucky Barnes**

 

"C'mon Daddy, it's our stop!" 

Madelaine tugged at his hand, dragging him with all her might off the train. He followed her quickly, escaping just before the doors closed shut behind him. He couldn't believe it, it must've been at least 6 years since he'd seen Steve Rogers. He turned around, smiling at him as the train drew out of the platform - Steve just looked back, perplexed. 

Wait - didn't he recognize Bucky? 

Bucky supposed he looked a bit different - he'd cut his hair and styled it back so it was never in his face anymore (that's how he'd always preferred it back in Afghanistan). He probably looked much smarter than Steve remembered - Bucky hated wearing suits, not that Steve would've seen him in a suit anyway. Nowadays he had to dress smart - you can't run one of the must successful banks in Manhattan without wearing a suit. 

Or maybe you could. He didn't want to risk it though. 

He grabbed his daughter's waist and lifted her up into his arms. Maddy was 6 and was the only reason that Bucky got up in the morning. When he left for the army, he and his then girlfriend had fooled around a lot - Natasha was pretty wild like that. When he returned home a year and a half later, a baby was waiting for him. The thing was, Bucky had kind of had a huge realization during his time in the army and wanted to end things with Nat. Feeling the weight of parenthood on his shoulders, he decided not to for the sake of the baby. A couple of months later, Nat realized how sad that was making Bucky and so  _she_ had ended things. That's why Bucky had always loved Nat - she was compassionate and caring, though she would have punched him if she'd heard him say that. He was still on good terms with Nat, they were even partners in his company. 

Walking through Brooklyn Heights, the streets almost empty in the late evening, he and Maddy chatted about Star Wars (her favorite movies) as they made their way to his sisters house. It was a Friday night and Bucky had promised that Maddy could have a sleepover at Aunt Becca's house. Rebecca was a nurse at a hospital in the city and Bucky was so lucky to have her - when he was growing up, he and his parents had never gotten on well. Rebecca was the peacekeeper in the house. 

"Daddy, what time is the game tomorrow?" Maddy asked, playing with Bucky's tie as they made their way up through the building to Rebecca's apartment. Maddy loved ice hockey - so did Nat's husband Clint - so the four of them were going to watch the Rangers game the next day. 

"7o'clock honey, so you'll have time to play soccer with Aunt Becca in the morning, sound fun?" Maddy nodded happily as she pressed her finger to the doorbell. Bucky grinned at his daughter. The door opened. 

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" Rebecca said, whisking Maddy up into her arms, who giggled in delight. "Just in time for hot chocolate!" 

Bucky smiled at the scene before him, walking through into Rebecca's flat and shutting the door behind him. Becca lived in his parents old apartment - they'd retired upstate a couple of years ago and left her the apartment. It was huge, it had cost them something like $22million - a vast chandelier suspended from the ceiling, a twisting staircase spiraling down from the balcony above. Becca lived by herself and sometimes Bucky wished he could do something with the flat, something useful like set up a kids home or something. 

"I should head home, I'll get back at midnight if I don't leave soon," Bucky shouted into the kitchen after emerging from his thoughts. Becca came back through, leaving Maddy singing some song about hot chocolate in the kitchen. That girl was always singing. 

"Are you sure you won't just stay? You can sleep in your old room?" she suggested. 

"No, it's alright, I've got a business call in the morning, plus she's desperate to play soccer with you tomorrow," he replied. "I'll be back to get her after lunch, is that okay?" 

Becca nodded, pulling Bucky in for a quick hug. Bucky never really hugged anyone except Maddy so the touch felt quite strange and foreign. He patted her back uncomfortably, drawing back from the contact and flashed her a quick smile. "Bye Maddy!" She poked her head out from the kitchen, her mouth covered in chocolate and grinned over at him. Laughing, he turned back towards the door and headed back out into the night. 

Finally he could think about Steve. 

He didn't look much different even though six years had passed - those same green eyes, that same blonde hair and huge freaking body. He remembered how he'd crushed on Steve when he had first arrived - Steve never knew about that though, thank God. Bucky wondered where Steve lived now. He knew it would be somewhere in Brooklyn, that's how they'd bonded initially, knowing that the other had come from the same borough of NY as them. He chuckled thinking about it, thinking about how he'd promised that he wouldn't die on the first day. 

_Nobody dies on the first day of combat._

He'd been wrong. 

As he approached the subway station, he reached into his pocket, seeing a text on his phone. A picture of Becca and Maddy drinking from Star Wars mugs. He chuckled, smiling to himself as he descended onto the platform. He remembered the moment he first met his daughter. Nat was at his house, having lunch with his parents, waiting for him to arrive. They all knew he was coming home, and they all knew why. When he walked in, they all treated him like he was made of glass. That just annoyed him even more. When Nat had asked if he wanted to hold the baby, she said  _"Do you think you can?"._ As if he weren't strong enough to hold a baby after the explosion. 

He was fine.  _"I'm fine!"_ he had snapped. Then the baby cried. 

It was that moment that he decided he needed to change - to become less aggressive and stubborn. He wanted to set a standard for his daughter, wanted to see her grow into a kind person. Bucky wished he'd had a father who had set the same example. 

Zoning out for the rest of the journey home, he thought about Steve again. He had worn a brown leather jacket and underneath Bucky had been able to see the t-shirt stretched over his torso, the muscles clearly defined under the thin fabric. Bucky almost shivered at the memory before whipping his eyes open and concentrating on anything except the blood that had rushed to his cheeks and, you know, down  _there._

It was past 11 now and the train was practically empty. When it pulled into the station at Chelsea - where Bucky lived - he was trying hard to keep his eyes open and on keeping his feet moving in the same boring motion, left foot, right foot, left foot, right. The streets of Manhattan were still filled with people, mostly tourists staring at the Empire State Building. You could see it from Bucky's window - somehow he'd tired of the view. He sped through the people on the streets, arriving at his building. He smiled at the receptionist who sat, twirling a finger through her hair, behind her desk. She flashed a toothy grin back at him. She kind of scared Bucky with her black and pink hair - her name was Gamora or something like that. 

The elevator doors pinged open and he entered, running his hand over his face and pressing his thumb and forefinger into his drowsy eyes, grimacing with exhaustion. He'd had a long day, up at 5 for a business call and it had been non-stop since then. When the doors pinged again, he was on his floor. 

Bucky had the penthouse suite of his apartment block, and the views of the city were pretty incredible. The white walls and furniture glinted under the moonlight that streamed in through the windows. Bucky turned off the lights and closed his eyes, sinking into one of the seats and sighing. He knew he should get changed, brush his teeth, probably have a shower and then get into bed, but he was so exhausted that he felt the tug of sleep grip him, and slowly he drifted off to sleep. 

 

\---

 

He regretted the decision the moment he woke up.

His whole body ached, his neck and head especially from lolling off the end of the sofa all night. Groaning as he pulled himself up, he looked at the clock on the wall to see it was 2.30am. No point trying to go back to sleep now - he never did - so he walked up the stairs to his bedroom, tugging at the tie around his neck and yanking at it until it came off. He removed the rest of his clothes and his shoes - which he'd also fallen asleep in - and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower. The water pattered against the surrounding glass, the sound echoing loudly through his otherwise silent apartment. He stepped into the shower, the piping hot droplets stinging his body when they made contact with the skin. He sighed as he adjusted to the heat and plunged his head into the water, firmly shutting his eyes as streams of water cascaded down around him and down his body. 

Bucky loved showering. It sounded strange, but it felt like it was the only place where Bucky could just escape and feel like no one was judging him, like no one was looking at him and wondering why he had such atrocious balance, why he only ever used his right arm, why he never looked at himself in the mirror. When he was in the shower, he was washing off everything that had happened to him, good and bad, and starting afresh. 

Dragging his hands through his hair a couple of times, he started to hum the song that Maddy had sung on the train:  _Blackbird_ by the Beatles. As a kid, his mother had sung that to him every night before he went to bed. Her voice always filled Bucky with happiness. He knew he couldn't sing very well but he wanted Maddy to have that same feeling in her chest as she drifted off to sleep. 

After fifteen minutes or so, he stepped out of the shower, switching off the water and grabbing two towels. He wrapped the first around his waist and the second over his shoulders. That way he wouldn't even see a glimpse of the reflection of his shoulder when he walked past the mirror back into his bedroom. 

His business call was in an hour or so - the second branch of his company was set up in Moscow, which were seven hours ahead of him. His insomnia sort of helped when it came to being awake at ridiculous hours of the morning for phone calls. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt and sank into the bed. Closing his eyes, he breathed out. The city that never sleeps seemed to be sleeping in that moment - or more like it was holding it's breath and everything had just stopped. As he lay there, counting his breaths, he thought about Steve again. He didn't know why he couldn't get him out of his head. It's not like they'd had any sort of history, they barely knew each other. He'd only known Steve for what, one or two days before the accident and he was shipped home. 

There was just something romantic about reconnecting with him after all this time. 

Bucky scowled at himself for thinking such a sappy thought and sat up once more. He checked his watch again. Half an hour until the conference call. He wondered if Natasha would be awake yet, so he sent her a text. 

_Hi, it's Bucky. Everything fine with Maddy at Becca's - will you tell Clint that he can meet me at my place before the game. B x_

After two or three minutes, his phone buzzed in his hand. 

_I'll tell him at a reasonable hour - which this is not, by the way. N x_

He grinned at the response - Nat always had a way of cheering him up, even if it meant bullying him a little bit. 

_You needed to be awake for the call anyway. 4o'clock start, don't be late. B_

The reply came almost instantaneously. 

_Barnes, I'm never late, even at 4am. On a Saturday. Screw you._

_Is that anyway to talk to your boss?  B_

_It is when he's your ex-boyfriend._

They chatted for the rest of the time before the call began, bickering over the phone like they always did. When 4o'clock arrived, he walked through into his living room, grabbing his notes and flicking on the light beside him. He returned to the chair that he'd fallen asleep in and sunk back into it. Reaching for the phone on the table beside him, he dialed the first number and sighed.

Another day at the office. 

 

\---

 

When the sun finally rose, Bucky was already exhausted. The call had lasted three hours and as the city began to bustle into action again - the streets slowly filling up with tourists that came and went all year round - Bucky collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep once more. He figured that he didn't need to pick Madelaine up until after lunch, like he'd told Becca, so he could sleep all morning. Maybe he'd drive out to Brooklyn - it was a hot day in September and the thought of being packed into a tiny metal cabinet hurtling along a track at top speed, full of hundreds of sweaty passengers, made Bucky feel a bit sick. 

He woke again at 11 and decided to get changed. He grabbed a button-down from his cupboard, firmly shutting his eyes for the few moments that he was bare-chested and doing up the buttons along his chest. Examining the cupboard, he decided on a smart pair of sneakers that he'd bought last week. They were different from what he usually wore - brogues or something else smart. Maddy always told him that he had 'a hundred pairs of exactly the same shoes, it's silly, Daddy!'. He supposed she was right. 

Checking his watch again, he grabbed his bomber jacket from behind the door where it always hung and grabbed his phone. Drive it was - he wasn't particularly in the mood for the subway. 

Bucky didn't drive often - the traffic in Midtown Manhattan was almost always terrible, especially on a Saturday afternoon. He usually parked out by the Hudson, just a couple of minutes away from his apartment block to avoid the traffic of midtown, and as he turned the corner, the smell of the river hit his nose and he breathed in deeply. The beeping of horns around him continued but he blocked out the surrounding noise, just breathing in the smell of the water and allowing the slapping of the waves to sink over him. Realizing he'd stopped walking in the middle of the road, he continued to walk and spotted his car, parked in it's usual spot. The sky seemed clear enough, and Bucky considered the fact that he probably wouldn't be able to take the hood down again this year as autumn was coming to an end, so he took the hood down. Hopping into it, he turned the keys in the ignition. If he was lucky with the traffic, it should only take around 25 minutes to drive to Becca's. 

He started to drive down West St along the riverfront and gazed out at the open water as he drove by. There were a couple of boats out on the river - people were making the most out of the last few warm days of the year.

His father used to own a boat, he took Bucky and Rebecca out on it a couple of times. Bucky had never really liked the boat, the choppy motion as they floated atop the water. He felt unsafe, not in control. 

Pushing his foot down on the acceleration, he sped around the tip of the island, passing the looming body of Staten Island ahead of him as he passed through Battery Park and slowly, Brooklyn came into view. He smiled, Brooklyn was his home really, where he belonged. He lived in Manhattan simply for convenience, so he could be near work and so he could be near Madelaine, but one day he hoped he could move back to Brooklyn. 

Maybe he'd see Steve.

As he approached Brooklyn Bridge, he turned on the radio, hoping that something half-decent would be playing. Bucky had never really gotten into music as a kid - his parents had listened to classical music and encouraged him to do so as well. Becca had had none of it though, and introduced Bucky to the music she liked: all the classics like Queen, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles. Queen were his favorite band, although the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't have much to compare them too. 

Still, as he tapped along to Another One Bites the Dust with the wind rushing above him, he couldn't help but think that it didn't get much better than this. 

He exited the bridge, swirling around the twisting road until he reached Becca's flat building once more. Pulling the car up outside, he left the roof down and ran up into the building. He'd missed Madelaine - every time she was at Nat's or Becca's he had a hard time sleeping, her presence was a comfort. He rapped on the door twice when he arrived and Maddy pulled it open, leaping up into his arms as soon she saw him. He pulled her in tight, her long hair all in his face. It smelt like strawberries. "I missed you!" he laughed as he put her down. She was wearing her favorite Star Wars t-shirt and smiling, her two front teeth missing - she'd been very excited a couple of weeks ago when they both fell out and she got a visit from the tooth fairy. 

Bucky may or may not have borrowed Natasha's tutu from when she did ballet and may or may not have bought a pair of fairy wings off the internet. He then may or may not have dressed up in said tutu and wings and danced into Maddy's room to Dance of the Sugurplum Fairy. 

May or may not have done that. 

"Alright, are you ready to go? You got all your stuff?" she nodded happily as she skipped out of the room, her backpack trailing behind her. He turned back to Rebecca who stood smiling in the doorway. "Thanks for doing this, she loves spending time with you."

"Anytime," she responded. "Have fun at the game."

With that, she shut the door and Bucky turned, grinning at Maddy. She screamed, knowing what was coming next. He chased her down the stairs, his hands outstretched. She squealed with laughter, bursting through the door and running out to the car. Not tall enough to clamber over it's frame, she turned to face him with a malevolent grin and started running towards him. He feigned fear and cowered behind his hands as her tiny fingers began to tickle his chest. 

"Alright, alright, you win," he laughed, picking her up and dropping her into the passenger seat. She was so tiny, she hardly weighed anything to Bucky. "Now, who's excited for the Rangers game tonight?" "

"Me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Is Clint gonna be there?" 

Bucky nodded, hopping into his own seat and starting up the car. Maddy loved riding with the hood down - she said she felt like she was in one of the speeders from Star Wars.  _"The one that Luke drives in a New Hope, Daddy,"_ he remembered her explaining to him once. She said that she was Luke Skywalker and that he was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Then she'd decided that her teddy was a better Obi-Wan so he could be C3P0. 

He'd scowled at her and she'd just laughed. 

"Of course Clint'll be there, and if you're lucky, we'll buy hotdogs," he tempted, knowing that Maddy would do anything for a hotdog. Her eyes lit up at the thought. "First though, let's go back home and have some lunch, I'm starving. Maybe we'll even have time for a quick lightsaber battle." 

 

\---

 

Bucky watched from behind the doorway as Maddy crawled out from behind the sofa, her light-up blue lightsaber in her hand. He waited as she began to walk down the hallway, scanning into each room before he decided on the perfect moment to jump out. "Boo!" he shouted, waving his red lightsaber as she shrieked in response. They began to fight, jumping on the sofa before Maddy threw her lightsaber off the side and yelled, pulling her sleeve up over her hand. 

"There is no escape," Bucky laughed in his best Darth Vader voice. "Don't make me destroy you."

He gazed down at her as she continued to back away from him. "Luke, you do not yet realize your importance, you have only begun to discover your power. Join me, and I will complete your training." 

"I'll never join you," Maddy shouted defiantly. 

"If you only  _knew_ the power of the dark side. Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father."

Maddy yelled, "He told me enough. He told me you killed him!"

"No, Luke," Bucky started, "I am-"

The doorbell rang. 

Maddy looked up at Bucky. Bucky looked back at her. They both burst out laughing. He picked her up, sitting her upright on the sofa, and went to get the door. Clint stood on the other side, his over-sized Rangers Jersey on and a huge smile plastered on his face. "Hey, man. How's it going?" 

"Good, good," Bucky said, as Clint walked into his apartment. "You interrupted a pretty important lightsaber fight though, I'm not gonna lie to you." 

"Oh, damn it. I can be Yoda, hey Maddy, listen," Clint cleared his throat and pulled his hoodie up over his head, crouching down to Maddy's level. "Game of Rangers watch we will tonight, yes? And hotdogs we will buy, hmm?" 

Bucky laughed. The voice was atrocious, but the smile it put on Maddy's face made it alright. "You knob, can I get you a drink?" 

Clint swerved Bucky's hand as it swung to hit him over the head. "You got any beers?" 

"Of course," Bucky responded, heading over to his bar and grabbing a beer from the fridge. "How was your day?" 

Clint shrugged as he uncapped his beer and took a long swig. "Mediocre. Nat was in a grumpy mood all morning after that conference call this morning. She hates getting up early." 

"Same here," he responded as the two of them sat at the bar, Bucky fiddling with the cap of his bottle. Maddy had run off with her lightsaber and he could hear making the sounds as she swung it around in her bedroom. "Had a good afternoon though. I never get bored of her." 

Clint smiled, nodding his head. "I know what you mean. She's a great kid." 

The two of them sat in silence for a moment or two before Bucky noticed the time. "Dude, we should probably go, it's 6.15." It was only a 15 minute walk to Madison Square Garden, where the Rangers were playing, but Bucky hated being late and wanted enough time to find their seats and get Maddy that promised hotdog. 

"Alright, let's do it. Mads, let's go," Clint shouted. Bucky smiled at the nickname. Maddy emerged wearing her own Rangers jersey - Clint had bought it for her a couple of months ago - which went past her knees and almost to her ankles. 

"Grab your jacket, or you're going to be cold," Bucky said.

"But then the players won't be able to see my jersey," she replied. 

Clint turned to look at him. "The girl has a point." Bucky glared at him, feeling Maddy's smile as she pulled on her shoes. 

"Fine," Bucky said, grabbing his own coat and pulling it on. He took Maddy's hand and followed Clint out of his apartment and into the elevator. Clint continued to do his Yoda impression as the lift descended. Somehow it got worse each time - sort of the opposite of what Bucky had expected, surely he would've gotten better with practice? 

The doors drew open and the three of them emerged into the lobby. Maddy grabbed Clint's arm with her other hand and started to swing her arms, shouting something about ice hockey. Or maybe hotdogs. Probably both. 

 

**Steve Rogers**

 

Steve had never been interested in ice hockey. 

He watched the baseball every once in a while. If he flicked through the channels on TV to find nothing interesting to watch he'd watch baseball. Not that he found it particularly interesting. Football was okay. Basketball was a bit dull. Soccer was fun to play but boring to watch.

But ice hockey had never really struck with him before. 

It was with great reluctance that Thor had managed to drag Steve out to Midtown Manhattan to watch an ice hockey game. 

He said that like he had many other plans on a Saturday night. Ha. Yeah right. 

Thor was a huge guy - bigger than Steve, and Steve was pretty big - from Norway that moved to New York when he was a teenager. His parents were pretty wealthy, they'd bought a decent sized house out in Queens which they still lived in with Thor's younger brother Loki. Thor had gone to college but dropped out, wanting to see what life in the city was really like. And so, he found the Coffee House. Now he lived in an incredible apartment thanks to his dad's money. Steve wondered how they could be working the same job and Thor was so much better off than he was. 

Sometimes that's just the way life works. 

Thor yelled as someone shot the puck into the goal, whooping with a giant grin on his face. His long blond hair jumped around with a life of it's own as Thor celebrated. Steve tried not to die of embarrassment as everyone around him began to notice. "Thor, you can stop now." 

"No, my friend. We must celebrate the victory!"

"They haven't won yet, Thor, it's only been two periods," Steve replied as the second period of the game came to an end. The New York Rangers - who Steve had guessed they were supporting - were winning by three goals and Steve didn't really care. 

Steve found that he cared about less and less as time went by. 

"I'm going to grab a drink, do you want anything?" Thor asked. Steve shook his head and moved out of his way so that his friend could get out. 

Steve barely used the word friend anymore. He was scared to, he guessed, after everything that had happened in Afghanistan with Sam, but Thor was his friend and he was a good one. He understood that Steve felt out of place in the city after everything that had happened to him and he tried his best to help him - invite him to parties, invite him round to his house for Thanksgiving, to his parent's house for Christmas, to invite him to ice hockey games. 

Steve smiled a tiny smile when he thought about it. Maybe he did have a friend in Thor. 

That's when he heard the voice again. The voice that rose so sweetly over the din of the rowdy crowd, the voice from the train. Steve looked around quickly, scanning the crowd for the little girl. He looked up behind him to see if she was there, earning him weird looks from the men sitting behind him. Mumbling a quick apology, he sat back down in his seat and folded his arms. Then he saw her, sitting a few rows in front and down to the right of him, sitting between two guys. Steve smiled when he recognized the one on her left as Bucky. 

He considered going over to them. But then who was the other guy? A husband? A friend? The girl leaped onto the other man's lap and started squeezing his cheeks, laughing as he pulled faces at her. 

He had to be her father, there's no way she could be comfortable doing that to anyone that she hadn't known her whole life.

For some reason, that made Steve feel sad. He didn't know why, he hardly knew Bucky.

Thor came back with a giant cup full of God knows what and a straw that he sucked on, gross, slurping noises escaping his mouth. Steve looked up at the clock, he still had five minutes before the third period started and he'd started to need the toilet. "I'll be back in a minute," he said as Thor sat down, turning and running down the stairs. He didn't know why his eyes were filling with tears. 

 

**Bucky Barnes**

 

Maddy leaped onto Clint's lap and started squeezing his cheeks, laughing at the faces that Clint started pulling. Bucky couldn't help but laugh too, his shoulders shaking as he watched them sing and do their impressions of each other. 

He looked up and saw a flash of blond hair.

Recognizing Steve immediately, he suddenly stopped laughing and stared after him. The poor guy looked like he was about to cry. He ran down the stairs and out of the seating area, towards the toilets. Bucky stood up to follow him, then remembered that he hardly knew the guy, that it was stupid to care about what he was crying about. Turning around to see where he'd come from, he saw another man - the man with the weirdly long celebration dance -  with a giant cup of God knows what staring after where Steve had just run off to. 

Was he on a date? 

For some reason, that made Bucky feel sad. He didn't know why, he hardly knew Steve.

He'd never seen Steve before at a Rangers game - Bucky came to almost every single one, and not once had he ever seen the other man there before. He wondered what life would've been like if he had. Maybe they would have reconnected. Maybe they'd be friends, maybe even-

A sharp whistle interrupted Bucky's thoughts and the play began again, the players skating around the ice as Maddy and Clint watched with eager eyes. Bucky forgot everything about Steve in the midst of the game - he couldn't help himself, he loved ice hockey. The Rangers scored another goal and the guy that was friends with Steve jumped up and started dancing again. Bucky smiled this time, especially when Maddy jumped up into his arms and yelled in his face that they were going to win. He nodded hopefully as the game recommenced, sitting back down. 

He soon realized that he had one eye on the game but the other on the door, waiting for Steve to walk back in. He didn't. 

 

\---

 

He woke suddenly, sweat dripping down his face. His breaths became thick and fast, getting caught in his throat. 

He'd had another dream about the bomb. 

Casting the thought aside as quickly as it had come, he whipped the covers of his bed and began pacing his bedroom, flicking on the lamp beside his bed. The lights of the city around him flickered, pulsing in his head and making him freak out even more. He walked out of his bedroom slowly so as not to wake Maddy asleep next-door and he tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen. Pouring himself a large glass of water and drinking the majority of it in one gulp, he breathed out a sigh.

It was just a dream, it won't happen again. It can't happen again. 

He slowly calmed himself down, breathing in and out slowly until he'd talked himself back into trying to sleep. He clambered back up the stairs, his body still aching from tossing and turning in his bed. He flicked the lamp off and collapsed back into the king-sized bed, burying his face into the pillow. 

"Daddy?" a timid voice called from the hallway. 

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry, did I wake you up?" he asked, holding out his arms as she came over to him. 

"No, I had a bad dream and couldn't get back to sleep," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Can I sleep in here with you?" 

Bucky nodded, pulling her up onto the bed and tucking her under the covers beside him. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, her eyelids welding shut. Bucky laughed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

He couldn't remember a time when it was that easy for him to fall asleep and wished it could be so easy for Maddy for the rest of her life. She deserved it.

Maybe Bucky didn't. 

 

**Steve Rogers**

 

It was Monday morning. 

Steve hated Monday mornings. In all honesty, Steve hated most mornings and he knew that everyone hated Mondays but he just really hated Monday mornings. Everyone in the Coffee House was always so grumpy, even Scott who'd already had about sixteen coffees, even Thor who was hardly ever grumpy (except when Loki decided to visit after college).

As he walked through the already open door of the Coffee House, he flicked the sign to say that they were open. A six o'clock start was like a bite in the ass on a Monday morning. Scott sat on the counter, flicking through a newspaper and sipping on a coffee. 

"Morning," Steve muttered as he walked behind the bench, hanging up his coat and trading it for the dusty apron that was still there from where he'd left it a few nights before. "How was your weekend?" 

Scott slid down off the counter, finishing his coffee and chucking the cup towards the bin. "Meh," he mumbled as the two of them watched the cup soar. He missed. Grumbling under his breath, he went to collect it and tossed it into the garbage. Wanda walked through from the kitchen, tying up her apron. Steve felt bad for the girl. She'd moved to New York a couple of months ago with her twin brother after her parents died. She was only about 22 and hardly spoke any English. She was bright though, and had been offered a place at some local college. To pay for the fees and for her house, she had to work two jobs in addition to class. Steve respected her for doing it, he understood that money was either man's best friend or their worst enemy from personal experience. 

Scott, however, was a mopey thirty-something who still acted like a teenager with a part-time job. He drank about twenty coffees per day and somehow managed to wiggle himself into everyone's business. Sometimes he just slipped by unnoticed, like a completely irrelevant bug.

Steve was shocked at how mean his sub-conscious was being and cast the thought aside immediately. 

The first few customers began to enter the shop and Steve sighed, waiting for the morning rush to begin. The first two hours were relatively quiet, as they always were, but around 8o'clock was when everyone began to arrive, cranky and tired and in need of their morning coffee. 

At 9, the shop began to empty again, everyone heading off to work. A man bustled in with a briefcase in one hand and his phone in the other, speaking angrily at someone in what Steve thought sounded like Russian. 

"Did you hear me? I said a skinny latte," the woman in front of him said. He apologized curtly and got back to work, trying to ignore the man's voice. 

"я знаю что  мы  сказали тридцать  тысяч  вчера , но теперь  мы  должно  изменить  его" the man muttered into the phone. Handing the woman the coffee, he heard the man mutter a quick thank you before turning and walking out, followed by the woman that Steve had served. 

Steve looked up, out of the window, and saw that the man was Bucky. 

He was about to run after him when he caught himself: once again having to remind himself that he didn't actually know the guy, that they'd only met once, and briefly at that, plus Bucky probably didn't even remember him. 

He hadn't shown any signs of recognizing him on the subway.

But he had smiled. Remembering it put a smile on Steve's face too. 

"What're you smiling at?" Scott said through a mouthful of croissant. 

"You know we're not supposed to eat those right," Steve said, pointing at the remaining croissant in his hand. 

"Yeah, I know."

Steve raised his eyebrows at Scott, who smiled and put the rest of it into this mouth. Steve rolled his eyes and turned back to look out the window. Bucky had gone. 

 

 

\---

 

"And Tony told Bruce that the only way he was getting past him was if he admitted to everyone in the cafeteria that he was a genius," 

"Tony, how old are you?" 

The usual group sat around the table, "laughing" at another of Tony's work anecdotes about bullying Bruce. Steve hoped that he wasn't the only one that was fake laughing. "No wait, Steve you're going to love the ending. So Bruce says quietly that Tony is a genius and this guy - Rhodes - who works in security just bursts out laughing. Like full on snorts and chokes on his sandwich and has to leave work early because he has an asthma attack he's laughing so hard," Pepper explains, giggling at the thought of it. Tony just sat there grumpily as everyone laughed. He wasn't so used to people laughing  _at_ him. 

"So, how was your day, Steve?" Bruce asked. 

Steve paused. They didn't often ask him about his day, how he was. He thought best about how to answer the question.  _Oh yeah, my day's going great. I had an hours sleep last night before he woke up at 2am, vomiting my entire innards out after having a nightmare about the IED that almost killed me in Afghanistan. Then I had to leave the house at 5.30 so that I could get to this stupid coffee shop in time to open it for the most unpleasant people in the entire city - businessmen on a Monday morning. Then I miss the one person that I actually want to talk to, which is stupid because I hardly know him and only met him once but I have a stupid crush on him and his daughter is so cute but I think he's married and-_

"It was fine," Steve said nonchalantly. 

"Steve Rogers, a man of many words," Tony quipped. Steve glared at him before a full-fledged argument broke out among the six of them as it was inevitably going to do.

The bell dinged in the background and someone walked in, heading over to the counter. The man looked up to find no one waiting for him and then called out behind the counter. "Is anyone there?" he shouted. Steve looked over - Wanda had left early and Scott was nowhere to be seen so he sped over there, retying his apron behind his back.

"Sorry about that, what can I get for you?" Steve asked, searching for a coffee cup under the counter. The man was silent.

Steve emerged from under the bench with a cup and a smile and then he also went silent. 

Bucky stood in front of him with a look of shock on his face. "Steve Rogers?" he asked after a minute. Or maybe two. Maybe it was an hour? With blue eyes like that, Steve fell into them as easily as if they were an ocean and completely lost track of time. 

"Yeah, that's me," Steve said, pointing at his name tag before regretting it immediately and dropping his hand by his side. "Bucky Barnes." It wasn't really a question, more  like an affirmation. Like Steve was convincing himself that it was really Bucky, that he was really there. 

"I can't believe this, you're not going to believe me but I've been seeing you all around the city. On the subway, then at the Rangers game - I didn't even realize that you worked here when I came in this morning," Bucky began to explain, putting his hands on the counter and leaning a little closer. He was still a good meter away from Bucky, but Steve could smell him, a mix of sweat from a long day at work and cologne, plus something else sweet that Steve couldn't quite place. "How have you been? The last time I saw you was Afghanistan." 

Both of them went silent, remembering the last time they'd made eye contact: right before the IED had exploded in front of them. "I'm doing okay, still living in Brooklyn, out in Brownsville." 

"Oh, nice," Bucky said. Steve could tell that he was just being polite: Brownsville wasn't called the Murder Capital of New York for nothing. 

"How about you, where do you live now?" 

"Oh, I live up in Chelsea now," Bucky explained. "I miss Brooklyn though. My sister still lives down there, in my parents old house. I visit her a lot." 

Steve wasn't sure why Bucky was telling him all this, it wasn't like they were friends. Not that he minded, of course, he wanted to hear it. He just didn't know what someone like Bucky would want to be telling someone like Steve. 

"Who was that kid you were with on the subway and the Rangers game? Is she yours?" Steve asked, in an attempt to sound casual. He wanted to know - sort of needed to know - who that man was Bucky was with, whether he was a friend, boyfriend, husband?

"Yeah, that's by daughter Madelaine," Bucky said, his face lighting up at the mention of her name. "My ex-girlfriend and I split custody of her. We were both at the Rangers game the other day, did you see us? I would've come over and said high but Clint wanted to go straight after the game and get home to Natasha." The cogs whirled in Steve's head. Why would Clint worry about getting home to another woman? Bucky laughed, evidently seeing the confusion on Steve's face. "Clint is Natasha - my ex's - husband. He's Maddy's step-dad." 

"Right, got it," Steve said. "So you work around here?" 

"Yeah, my company is based just around the block," Bucky started before Thor came over. Steve hadn't realized that it was nearly 9.30, time to close the shop. "Let me guess, you have to close." 

"Shoot, I didn't get you your coffee," Steve said. "What do you want?" 

"Tall, black," he responded. "You don't have to if it's inconvenient-"

Steve raised a hand to silence him. "It's okay, I want to," he said, then wondering if it was too forward and turned to face away from Bucky so he couldn't see the color in his cheeks. He breathed out and began preparing the coffee, praying that his face will have returned back to their normal color by the time he turned back around. Bucky was tapping his slender fingers against the surface of the counter and it was becoming incredibly distracting. Steve tried to ignore it, feeling the rush of his steam stream past his hair. He turned back around once the coffee was ready, handing it to Bucky. "Here, my treat." 

Bucky's mouth cracked into a smile. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course," Steve responded, smiling in return. 

Bucky picked up his briefcase with his other hand, turning on his heels and walking out to the front door. "I'll see you around, Steve." With that, he was gone and Steve's breathing returned to normal.

"Who was that?" 

Steve whipped around to see that Scott and Thor were standing in the doorway to the kitchen, had probably watched the whole scene go down and were now leaning against the wall with two grins plastered onto their faces. "My friend Bucky." 

"Oh, he's your friend," Thor said, slinking over to Steve with a cheeky look on his face. 

"Well obviously, I mean that's how all friends look at each other," Scott said, following Thor over and raising his eyebrows at Steve. "Right, Thor?" 

"Yeah, definitely," the taller man responded, blinking down at Steve. 

"Alright, that's enough. Now are you going to piss off or are you going to help me clean up?" Steve snapped.

The two of them looked at each other. "Well, if there's an option then I guess I'm going to piss off," Scott replied, lifting his arm in a Captain's salute before slipping out of the backdoor. 

"I'll help you out Steve," Thor said, grabbing a cloth from the sink. "In fact, I'll lock up tonight if you want. You can head out, I know you live pretty far out." 

Steve smiled appreciatively over at Thor. "Thanks, buddy. I appreciate that." Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the keys to lock up the shop and chucked them over to Thor who caught them with ease. 

"See you tomorrow morning," Steve said as he removed his apron and grabbed his coat, heading out into the evening, thinking about Bucky and his smart suit and his smart hair and his blue, blue eyes and his slender fingers and his-

Oh fuck. 


End file.
